A Single Drop
by Noxxus
Summary: Harry is crippled by a deadly disease that puts those around him in mortal peril. His existence is on a ticking timer as he takes potion after potion trying to salvage his life. Somehow the last person he wanted knowing learns his secrets and he's left dealing with the aftermath. (Sixth year, slash, trigger warning for sensitive content.)
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Waking up and desperately trying not to kill your roommates was always fun. He'd missed his night meds but he'd had no clue it would be like this. His head was throbbing, his eyes burned. A beast was in his stomach, clawing his insides to the point where he gasped aloud. Yes, Harry Potter would have preferred to be sleeping. At least when he was asleep he wouldn't be so damn hungry.

Being hungry was one of the not-perks of being Harry Potter. He was a bespectacled boy with wild black hair and green eyes, well they were usually green. Other times they were something inhuman, but that hadn't happened in a long time and he intended it to never happen again. If he was to name his favorite thing about being him, it would have to be the fact that he was a wizard. That was one of the perks of being Harry Potter.

The dormitory room was draped in red in gold. Pure sunlight streamed in through the window that gave a sneak peek of the blue sky outside and surrounding mountain range. It bounced off dust motes floating through the air and glittered off Harry's glasses on his bedside table. He placed a scarred hand on his glasses and shoved them on his face. Bad vision was another not-perk of being Harry Potter.

He could smell the stink of chicken in the room. Last night's supper still lingered on his roommates' breath. Ron had probably skipped brushing his teeth and Harry knew for a fact that Neville only used poorly preformed hygiene charms to keep his somewhat clean. On top of the chicken smell –nauseating- was the smell of humans. Their bodies stank of their humanity deliciously- disgusting, it was disgusting. Harry mentally berated himself. Friends, not food.

It was slightly disorienting to suddenly find oneself craving human flesh. Harry didn't remember a time when he hadn't. The disease had struck him at a young age when a Death Eater released to try and kill him. Most wizards lost their mind when infected, Harry envied them. Instead he got to enjoy the slow burn. Sometimes it really bothered him, slowly losing his humanity. Sometimes he didn't feel anything at all. Other than the hunger that is. He was _always_ hungry.

The thought of breakfast brought him no joy. His medication was out so why would it? The only breakfast he desired was wearing Hogwarts robes and definitely out of bounds. No eating people, was rule number one. The idea of devouring his friends in a bout of insanity made him sick, or maybe that was just the hunger pains. He usually couldn't tell the difference. That was the slow burn, slowly blurring the lines until SNAP! And then they would kill him as he knew they'd been waiting for, for years.

The castle was just coming awake when he arrived in the Great Hall. Sleepy students were sitting at the house tables bathed in sunlight, chatting idly about Quidditch and schoolwork. Up at the staff table he could see Dumbledore watching him. The old man was always watching with those piercing blue eyes. Today he was wearing salmon pink robes. Brilliant, another thing to remind him of flesh.

The sea of flesh slowly filled up. More faces, more names he'd forgotten. One face in particular stood out; Draco Malfoy. The pale boy with platinum hair and silver coins for eyes. He looked rather downtrodden today. Harry felt a smug grin come to his lips, it served the prat right. Draco Malfoy was his sworn enemy and not someone he'd mind eating. He bet he would taste sour, like lemons. A bitter taste for a bitter boy. Once again he had to stop his train of thought. Friends –well not in this case, but he knew what he meant-, not food.

Hermione and Ron joined him at the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger had very bushy brown hair –although she could make it sleek when she wanted- and keen brown eyes. He knew she was smarter than him but that long since had stopped mattering to him. Ron on the other hand was fireworks where she the comforting glow of a candle to read by. Ron had hair that glowed like fire in the morning sun and blue eyes that were chips of the sky. They were Harry's best friends and his strongest anchors to his humanity.

"Harry you don't look very good," Hermione said anxiously, touching his forehead and jerking back in surprise, "You have a fever! I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey's I'm sure she can-"

"I'm fine," Harry interrupted wearily, "Really Hermione. My medication ran out and I haven't been supplied a new brew yet."

She launched into a tirade of hot abuse against Snape for keeping Harry waiting, while he just listened, giving a 'Mmhm' and 'Yeah' at appropriate moments. His head hurt and he just wished he could go somewhere very dark and quiet with no humans. It wasn't an option, but he still wished it was. Maybe he should look in to having a nice cave constructed, one with a bed and carpet.

"You look like death, mate," Ron said quietly when Hermione had paused for a breath.

"Of course he does!" Hermione said angrily, "His medication is what keeps him alive! I'll be appealing directly to McGonagall! I can't _believe _they'd let Snape make such a blunder. This isn't even the first time!"

Hermione and Ron were under the impression Harry was chronically sick. It was true, but a half-truth and half a half-truth at that. They didn't know he dreamt of eating them, that their blood would taste as sweet as honey to him, that their flesh was the perfect meat to sate his hungers. They didn't know his medication was the only thing keeping his hunger under control and slowly the process of mental deterioration. It didn't keep him alive; it just kept him from dying. There were many things they didn't know and Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

"You're not eating," Hermione finally said into the silence, "Aren't you hungry?"

"No," The lie tasted sour on his tongue.

"Eat some toast at least," Hermione wheedled, peering at his face, "Harry you really do look sick, maybe-"

"I'm _fine_, Hermione!" Harry said loudly, but all the same buttered himself some toast.

It tasted like ashes in his mouth. Everything tasted like ashes. He could touch it, smell it, dream of the taste, but the second it touched his tongue it tasted of something burnt. Another not-perk of being Harry Potter was the fact that he was in fact a human volcano. His stomach was always filled with magma and anything that touched his tongue became ashes. The Boy Who Lived was the Living Volcano. He almost laughed at his own joke. Almost.

Everything was going well until lunch. He could smell them a mile away as he rushed through the empty corridors, but of course, like an idiot, he had assumed they weren't coming for him. There were many angry people in Hogwarts; it was just a scent that came along with their humanity. If he had known what these angry people were after, he probably would have stayed with Snape.

"Oi! Potter!"

He turned to see a group of Slytherins. They were seventh year judging by their figure but their faces didn't spark any memories for him. It wasn't like he spent his time memorizing Slytherins' faces. These faces looked angry though, and he could feel his body tense. So that was the hatred he had scented, and of course it had come for him. Idiot! Who else was roaming these deserted halls than him? Snape had been so kind as to hold him back after class, the git.

"What do you want?" He asked, annoyed.

"_What do you want_?" One of the Slytherins mimicked in a high pitched voice. The others broke into laughter and Harry felt himself flush. Today was not the day to pick a fight with him.

"Budge off or I'll jinx you," He said, reaching for his wand.

In a split second jets of colored lights were flying towards him along with a chorus of shouts. He was quick however and his hasty shield charm deflected most of the curses. The air rippled as the force of the jinxes that hadn't gotten through raced towards him. It felt like a dull punch to his chest but was still enough to wind him. He staggered and his head throbbed.

He sent a blasting charm at them and ran, swearing under his breath. Their footsteps echoed loudly behind him on the stone floor as they gave chase. Jets of light kept bouncing off of the walls around him with pops and crackles, but he ignored them and ran faster. Occasionally he'd send jinxes over his shoulder and once, judging by the yell and thud, he'd actually hit one of the targets who had been too slow to deflect it.

His breath was coming in ragged pants when he finally reached the stairs leading out of the dungeons. His body felt like spaghetti, his limbs felt loose and weak. He swore loudly as he began to run up the stairs; it was because he hadn't taken his fucking medication! Suddenly the world blurred as his head gave a nasty throb and he felt a blinding pain in his kneecaps. Sounds rushed back as the world swam back into focus and he heard whoops of laughter behind him. Groaning in pain, he pulled himself off of the stone steps and tried to continue on.

A hand closed around his foot and he cried out in pain as his –probably fractured- kneecap screamed. He twisted around and shot a jinx directly into the dumb Slytherin's face. The Slytherin let go in shock and went tumbling down the stairs. Harry was about to continue running when he smelled it.

Everything seemed to slow down while speeding up. The coppery scent violated his nostrils in the most seductive of ways and he greedily filed his lungs with the scent. He could hear his heartbeat speed up and it thundered in his ears as he turned around. Blood. Its glistening crimson drops were sprayed across the stone. The Slytherin had cut his arm open on a sharp step. Harry felt his foot touch the next step down. The blood was so red and it smelled_ delicious_.

Everything seemed to have taken on a shimmering quality. Lights were too bright and the yelling Slytherins seemed to echo from a great distance away. Harry's heartbeat thudded like a drum as he took another step forward. He could already taste it on his tongue; he licked his sharpened teeth in anticipation. Saliva had begun to flow like it hadn't in years and he had to swallow back a mouthful. One taste. He took another step forward.

The bell rang and it all came crashing down. Reality flooded back like a punch to the gut and he nearly doubled over. He could hear the panicked cries as the Slytherins tried to awaken their friend; he could feel the muggy air against his skin. What was he doing? It took him a couple seconds to remember who he was. His heart skipped a beat in fear as he realized what he'd been about to do. _Monster_!

Harry turned and ran. Every step caused him to gasp in pain, his knees fucking hurt. He slammed into something solid and he heard a familiar voice swear. Panic filled him like white hot fire and he tried to move but his legs were too slow. Malfoy grabbed his arm and spun him around, his mouth opened in a snarl, but then he froze. Harry knew why.

He could see himself reflected in Malfoy's coin-like eyes. His face was paler than usual and drawn in fear, but the real attractions were his eyes. They looked as though someone had spilled ink into them and then painted his irises a bone white. Red rimmed them angrily like he had been crying. Demonic eyes. Harry watched Malfoy's expression turn horrified and his grip slackened. Taking his chance, Harry shoved off Malfoy and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

**A/N** Drop me a review and tell me what you think! I'm very glad you've read my story this far and I hope you'll stay with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

What the hell was Potter? That question plagued him over the next couple days. Draco Malfoy had never seen something so strange in his entire life. He was a wizard, a human, but he had eyes like a monster and teeth to give nightmares. Fear still filled him at the thought, although he wouldn't admit that. Draco was much too proud to be scared of someone like Potter.

He had followed Potter after he ran off but he couldn't find him, he nearly missed his class. Rumor was Potter had been attacked by a group of Slytherins but fought them off. What a hero. His mouth turned down as he thought of how smug Potter must feel once again riding his fame. Draco stabbed an 'I' so viciously his eagle feather quill went through the parchment. Potter, the hero.

The Slytherin Common Room was filled with students. Some –the idiots- were showing off contraband with superior expressions while others were chatting, and trying to climb the mountain of homework. The noise melded together as Draco wrote, paying no attention to them. He was much too busy to mingle with the idiots. Besides, they wouldn't accept him anyways, not willingly. He looked down at his letter and smiled.

_Dear Father,_

_How are you? I'm doing well. The task set to me is going wonderfully. I believe it will be done before Christmas! Father, I have a question. Lately I've been doing a project and I can't find the information I need in a book. I've searched nearly the entire Hogwarts library. Do you know what black eyes with white irises mean? Thank you in advance._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco_

He folded the letter and sealed it with a tap of his wand and a murmured spell. Excellent! Already he could imagine his eagle owl returning with a letter filled with incriminating information. Potter would be getting his. Smug like a cat in a chicken coop, Draco tucked the letter into his robes. Revenge would be sweet. He could already see Potter's face when he found out how much power Draco would hold over him.

What he was getting revenge for was a bit fuzzy, but surely he had a solid reason for his dislike of Potter. Definitely, he definitely had a reason. For a few seconds he paused in leaving the Common Room. What _was_ his reason? Uneasily he shrugged off the speculation. He had a damn good reason, even if he was a bit foggy on the details.

The Owlery was empty when he arrived in it. Hundreds of owls were nesting in the cubbies and rafters. Draco wrinkled his nose at the smell and quickly called down Vincent with a whistle. His eagle owl fluttered down to his shoulder and promptly stuck out his leg. Vincent was a fine bird and Draco felt sure, as he tied on the letter, that he would get an answer very quickly. As he watched Vincent turn into a speck in the sky he couldn't help but feel his sense of superiority mount.

On his way out of the Owlery he bumped into someone. Ready to launch a volley of swears at them, he froze. It was Potter. Instantly a ghost of those eyes flashed in his mind and he felt himself flinch. Potter gave him a sour look.

"Watch where you're walking Malfoy."

Draco took a breath to say something –something clever no doubt- but before he could gather his wits Potter was already halfway down the path. Draco watched his retreating form and felt his cheeks burn. He'd been scared of Potter! Angrily he snarled at some third years who were watching him with wide eyes. Humiliation rolled off of him in thick waves.

He had his damn reason for revenge, and he would see to it himself that Potter wouldn't treat him like a fool again.

* * *

It tasted like fire going down and the feeling lingered as though lava had made permanent residence in his throat. Gasping, he convulsed as the medicine worked its 'magic'. Magic. He'd long ago stopped believing in magic. Shudders ran up and down his body and he let out a whimper. Make it stop! It took a couple minutes stretched to a breaking point for the feeling to return to a dull burning. It was better than the hunger pains, but still left him in enough torment to remind him that he was a _mistake_.

"Your Granger friend seems to be under the impression I'm not doing my job correctly," Snape said.

Harry looked up at him, feeling cold sweat trickle down his neck, and said not a word. Snape would just use his words against him; he would twist them. Hatred for the black eyed man seared through him like a fresh dose of medicine. Fucking slimy git.

"I would like to make it perfectly clear," Snape said, taking the empty potion bottle, "That I am not doing this for you because I want to. If it wasn't for Albus Dumbledore you would have long ago gone mad and been put down. You are-"

"Here until I can no longer be of use," Harry ground out; he'd heard the sentence many times.

Snape finished packing up his materials and gestured at the door, "Go."

Harry left Snape's office feeling anger coursing through his veins like poison. His mind was reeling with rage. In a small part of him he knew he was being irrationally angry but the disease often tuned out that voice. In the moment he wanted nothing more than to destroy something, to rip and tear and kill. He felt drunk on his own sickness. Thoughts weren't processing.

"Harry! Harry!"

He turned to see Colin Creevey running towards him waving his hand wildly. The tiny blond boy stopped when he saw Harry's face and his smile faltered. Using way too much effort, Harry rearranged his face into a grimace of a smile. For a few seconds Colin seemed to have forgotten his purpose, his eyes wide. Fuck.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, "I just came from Snape's and he was being a bit . . ."

Colin's smile came back in full force, "Yeah Harry! I know what you mean. Dumbledore gave me this to give to you-"

Harry took the parchment scroll from him. It was sealed with the Hogwarts seal and smelled distinctly of Dumbledore and Dumbledore's magic. It was likely that Dumbledore would not appreciate anyone else reading the letter. Curious, Harry opened it. It was written in fine slanting letters and signed elaborately at the bottom.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_I would hope for you to join me tonight in my office. There are important matters to discuss about your future and health. I expect to see you at nine o'clock sharp._

_P.S. I suggest you try the Gargoyle Mints._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Colin was still chirping away but Harry's attention was focused entirely on the signature. He could imagine Dumbledore's wrinkled hand signing it with a flourish. Mixed feelings were swirling through him. Part of him felt angry, he felt a vicious rage for the man who left him vulnerable at such a young age. Most of him just felt tired. He was sick of the constant prodding and poking he received. There was no cure. There was no future, not for him.

"I have to go Colin," He said, staring at the parchment as if the contents would somehow change.

He walked away, barely hearing Colin's farewell. His stomach was being to ache. He was hungry. Harry didn't know exactly where he was going, but he knew he had to go somewhere. If he didn't have destination, a goal, he would be left simmering in his own rage. For a split second he felt intolerable rage that the medicine barely curbed his appetite but it quickly faded away. Everything was becoming fuzzy. He felt dopey.

The medicine had the effect of making a bit dopey. It suffocated his emotions making him more 'balanced'. It just put chains on his mind and made it harder for him to revolt. Harry could feel his rage beginning to surface again. Perfect. It felt muffled but he could still feel it make his face heat up and his hands clench into fists.

"Harry!"

For a millisecond his immediate thought was that Colin had tracked him down, but then he recognized the voice and relief washed over him. Ron was walking towards him with a grin on his face and Harry felt his own lips twitch into a smile. He fell alongside Ron.

"Snape finally let you go?" Ron said, "Great. I was wondering if you could help me with my homework. Hermione's having another fit."

Harry snorted, "What's it about this time?"

"Apparently McGonagall brushed her off when she tried to appeal. Y'know I'm a bit surprised, figured McGonagall would at least listen. I don't get what's with the teachers and brushing it off," He gave Harry a curious look.

Harry scratched his ear, "They're just busy."

"Still, I figured with you and being the Chosen Boy," He waved his hands sarcastically, "They'd pay at least a little more attention. Dicks."

"Well now that everyone knows Voldemort is back they're probably just tense about everything. Might as well sacrifice me to him and get in good-," He paused as he saw Ron's expression, "Sorry."

Ron cuffed him in the shoulder, "You're imagining it mate; people wouldn't treat you like that."

He bit back the words that he longed to spit out. Ron had no idea how those that knew treated him. He was the sick boy. He was not the Chosen boy. That hype died once he became a monster, once he became infected. Not many people knew, but the ones that did kept themselves and their families well away from him. He couldn't blame Ron for not knowing.

"You're going to be doing try outs soon eh?" Ron said, clearly trying to change the subject, "I hope a good batch turns up this year."

They were walking down past a courtyard, a patch of starry night sky visible, "I'm just hoping we get two half decent beaters out of it."

Someone bumped into him. Harry turned to see Malfoy grinning at him. His stomach flipped uneasily, he didn't like that smile. He didn't like the way Malfoy was staring at him with so much curiosity mixed with superiority.

"Watch where you're walking, Potter."

Harry blinked in surprise; he hadn't expected Malfoy to throw his own words back at him. He watched Malfoy walk away while Ron volleyed an insult at him. Whatever game Malfoy thought he was playing, Harry wanted no part of. So he'd seen his eyes, that meant shit. Malfoy seemed too smug however and that gave him a sense of anxiety.

"I don't know what the slime ball is playing at," Ron muttered as Malfoy disappeared around the corner.

"He probably thinks he's being clever," Harry sighed, "Let's go. It'll be dinner soon. I have an appointment with Dumbledore after it."

They began walking again. For a second Harry was distracted by the motion of his legs. Ron was more prone to taking larger strides with more of a duck waddle. The tiny detail fascinated him for a second before he realized Ron was talking.

"-jinxes and of the sort. Maybe you could teach me a few and we could test them on Malfoy and his goons."

"Yeah," Harry said, unsure of what he was agreeing to.

"I wonder if I'll be able to convince Hermione to let me read her Potions homework. I'm stuck on the essay," Ron said.

Their conversation gradually drifted back over to Quidditch while they walked. Harry could sense Ron was hungry by the way his stride was quickening and he almost could have laughed. For some reason seeing hunger in humans always amused him. They had no idea what hunger really was.

The Great Hall was lit by the glow of a thousand candles floating in the air. The shivering and flickering light bounced off golden goblets and plates. Students were dotted among the tables like crows on a fresh corpse. The sound of chewing and chatter assaulted his ears as he looked around. Already the feast had begun and a variety of dishes were on the gleaming golden platters.

"I see Hermione," Ron said, leading the way over to her.

Hermione was sat a bit away from everyone else and had several books on the table. Her food was pushed off to the side and was untouched. Ron sat down beside her and began shovelling food onto his plate. Once seated Harry pretended to show interest in the food but only put meat on his plate. Eating meat wasn't too bad. He could tolerate meat. Preferably raw.

"Dumbledore will definitely be teaching you loads about defensive magic now that, that _Voldemort_ is out in the open," Hermione whispered after Harry told her about the appointment.

"Harry will probably learn loads of jinxes," Ron said, "I bet-"

"Dumbledore won't teach him powerful jinxes," Hermione interrupted, "That would be illegal."

"Y' ne'er oh, there ough' oo be um inx'es that are 'ow'er'ul an' not illegal," Ron said through a mouthful of chicken.

Hermione looked disgusted but Harry just chuckled and said, "You're going to choke."

Something tapped him on the head. He turned to see a paper airplane hovering in the air beside him. Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed, they were now heatedly arguing. Harry plucked the paper airplane out of the air and read it. His stomach clenched into knots. He knew who it was from even without a signature.

_Enjoying the feast? Don't force yourself to eat something so disgusting. I know you like your meat raw, bloody, and screaming for help._

* * *

**A/N** Another chapter done! Maybe drop me a review and/or hit that follow/fav button if you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading this far and I hope you'll continue to stay with me.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

He stared at the scribbled note feeling emotions bombard him. Fear, anger, and annoyance blended into a cocktail he was being force fed. He looked over at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy smiling at him. The blond raised his cup to him before returning to his meal. Anger flared through Harry like a flame on gasoline.

"What's in your hand?" Hermione asked suddenly, surfacing from her argument with Ron.

Harry quickly crumpled it up and shoved it in his pocket, "Nothing. Just a reminder that I have to go to Dumbledore's tonight."

Her face relaxed, "I hope you learn loads! Dumbledore will probably be teaching-"

"He's not going to teach me anything," Harry interrupted, "It's just to talk about my health."

There was an awkward silence that Hermione broke, "Maybe they've found a cure."

Harry snorted, "Yeah, right."

Another silence ensued. Harry played with his fork, watching the distorted reflection. He wanted to say something to make everything alright, but he didn't know what to say. Words escaped him.

"They've probably found a better treatment plan!" Ron said, clearly trying to brighten the mood.

"Oh yes! I hope they get rid of Snape he's absolutely horrible," Hermione said, bullet speed, "I _tried_ to appeal to Professor McGonagall but she wouldn't listen. Something strange is definitely going on. Just because," She lowered her voice, "Snape is a spy, doesn't mean he should get special treatment."

"Is there any news?" Harry whispered, leaning in.

"More killings," Hermione said, "More funny disappearances. Voldemort is moving into the open now."

Ron made a funny noise, "_Stop saying that name!_"

Hermione glared at him, "It's time we say Voldemort. You know what Dumbledore says: Fear of a name only increases fear of the object itself."

Ron speared a piece of beef with his fork angrily and said, "I know! I just don't like the bloody name, alright?"

After dinner Harry spent the better part of an hour trying to struggle his way through homework. It felt like he was studying for an exam, even though the year had just begun. At a quarter to nine he left the Common Room and made his way to Dumbledore's office. Two ugly gargoyles were stood in front of the gilded double door, behind which Harry knew Dumbledore's office resided. The torch light flickered eerily off of their twisted faces.

"Gargoyle Mints," Harry said clearly.

The gargoyles leapt aside and the door opened smoothly. Inside was a spiral staircase. Harry stepped on to one of the steps and it began ascending in dizzying circles. His stomach was filled with wriggling worms as he moved closer to his destination. The stairs stopped at the top in front of another rather magnificent door. Harry knocked, the sound echoing around him.

"Enter."

Harry obeyed and found himself in a very interesting, but familiar office. Dumbledore had many things. Many books, many silver instruments, many things that smoked or whirled, and many of those things Harry doubted he would ever understand. Through the window he could see the inky sky and a low hanging moon. Dumbledore was sat behind his desk, his silver hair gleaming softly in the candlelight.

"Sit down Harry," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a chair.

Once again he obeyed.

"I believe the moon blossoms will be blooming tonight," Dumbledore said, looking out of the window, "Do you know what they're used for?"

"My medicine," Harry said, keeping his eyes trained on the old man's face.

"Medicine is such an interesting word for what the potion is," He said, "It's more of a poison than anything else. It poisons the magic that's slowly killing you, but in turn kills you as well."

Harry didn't know what to say so he just waited for Dumbledore to continue. He was perfectly aware of what the medicine was doing, as if the taste wasn't indicator enough. Snape made it perfectly clear every time he administered a dose.

"Where do you see yourself in a year?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fighting Voldemort. That's what the prophecy said; neither can live while the other survives."

"It is true that I hope for you to face Voldemort, for you have a power great-"

"Love," Harry snapped, "Yeah, I know."

Dumbledore gave him a long look, "Yes, you do possess love. It was clear throughout your years here at Hogwarts, and burned brightest after Sirius's death."

"That wasn't love, that was pain," Harry had to fight to keep his voice even.

Sirius's death had not been a time where he felt love. It was a time where his love had been ripped away, spit on, and smashed into pieces. Even now, the fragments still pierced him as though it happened yesterday. To hear Dumbledore speak of it so calmly, as if he _understood_, it was intolerable. His hands were shaking with supressed rage. He wanted to strike that wizened face.

"You felt pain because of your love," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Why am I here, sir?" Harry asked bluntly.

"I believe you were in a scuffle with several Slytherins. If I'm not mistaken, one of them cut their arm open. Madam Pomfrey was able to patch him up in a jiffy of course. However considering your condition, I believe extra measures should be taken."

"I didn't attack him!" Harry protested.

"Be as that may," Dumbledore raised his wand, "You'll be needing extra precautions to avoid such a situation occurring."

Harry stood up quickly but didn't dare draw his wand, "Sir-"

"This won't hurt Harry, and I ask you to stay calm."

There was a flash of light and Harry felt a chilling sensation on his cheek. Dumbledore lowered his wand and gestured at the chair.

"Please sit, Harry."

Cautiously, he took his seat, "What was that, Professor?"

Dumbledore conjured a mirror and handed it to Harry. His reflection peered at him through the glass. A star was on his cheek, a black imprint on his face. He stared at it and felt uneasy. How was he going to explain it? What did it do? Dumbledore seemed satisfied however.

"That is a restraining star," Dumbledore said, "It's often used by Aurors to keep certain people under control. In this case it will immobilize you if so much as a drop of human blood passes your lips."

Harry touched the star, "What will I tell Hermione and Ron, sir?"

"I'm sure you'll be able to think of something, my dear boy," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "Isn't the young person fashion always changing?"

"Sir, is there anything else you need to speak about?"

Dumbledore tapped his glasses and smiled, "No, I believe that is all."

Harry stood up and approached the door. He felt a bit disappointed. Dumbledore was just making sure everyone was safe. He hadn't been preparing him to face Voldemort. He hadn't been giving him tools to survive. It stung. Even though he knew it was stupid, he had hoped in the tiniest way that there would have been some good news. Before he reached the door Dumbledore's voice called after him.

"Remember to be careful, Harry."

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

It had been roughly a week since the Dumbledore incident. Harry had found an excuse for Ron and Hermione and for a while the Gryffindors walked uneasily around him. Tattoos, especially one on his face, were signs of rebellion. They weren't the norm. People like Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan laughed and high fived him when they saw, but the girls seemed to just think he was showing off.

"Hey, Potter."

Harry looked up from his homework to see Draco Malfoy smirking at him. They seemed to be the only two in the library. This had become common-place as well. Malfoy seemed to have gotten it into his head that acting chummy with Harry would make him shake in his robes. Ron and Hermione had noticed as well. Draco's favorite time to pop up with a 'hey Potter' was always when Harry's friends were around.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, cautiously.

"Watch your tongue Potter," Malfoy sneered, "I'll have it chopped off if you don't."

"That's illegal," He pointed out, too annoyed to play whatever game Malfoy was playing.

"Not for people like you."

Harry bristled, "What do you mean by that?"

"Infected," The word rolled off of Malfoy's tongue like a juicy candy he'd been waiting to show off, "You're infected Potter."

"Are you going to tell me anything I don't already know?" Harry said, "Because I'm doing homework and I'd really prefer if you buggered off."

"Not just going to get the Mu-" His words froze at the look Harry gave him.

"If you finish that word," Harry growled, menacingly quiet, "I'll rip your throat out."

"Wh-what are you, a dog?" Malfoy stammered, his eyes wide.

"I'm infected," Harry grinned, showing regular teeth, "As you were so eager to point out."

Malfoy seemed to regain his composure, "You are. Which means that your life is _worthless_. I could kill you right here and now and I'd be praised a hero."

"I'd like to see you try," Harry said.

"You have no idea the importance I hold," He scoffed, "I'm only talking to you because you're interesting to look at."

"Are you trying to insult me or score a date?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's expression remained nonchalant but his cheeks were remarkably red, "You wish, Potter! I meant you're interesting to look at in the way I'd look at a Chimera in a zoo. My father taught me to keep tabs on the local monster population."

Harry shrugged, "Whatever you're doing isn't clever. Just leave me alone Malfoy."

"What if I don't want to?"

Harry gave him a cold look, "Then you're going to get bitten by the monster."

He scoffed, "I'm not scared of you, Potter!"

Harry was pinning him against the wall so quickly, Malfoy didn't have time to speak. Harry jabbed the point of his wand against Malfoy's throat hard enough to leave a mark. Rage was filling him to the brim, his muscles were screaming to be used. He wanted to wipe the smug smile off of Malfoy's face for good. He wanted to make those silver eyes widen in horror. Like an animal, he growled softly, eyes locked with Malfoy's,

"I am not your toy to poke and prod," He snarled.

Malfoy's mouth was moving, perhaps gasping in fear, but no sound came out. His body was frozen up against Harry's and those silver eyes were the size of Galleons. Satisfaction filled Harry in a dizzying wave. He dug his wand deeper into his neck and felt warm breath wash over his face as Malfoy gasped in pain. The power felt good. The power to scare him was intoxicating.

* * *

Draco felt humiliated. He felt small and tiny in front of the beast that was wearing Harry Potter. His eyes weren't human, yes they were green and normal, but they had an animalistic rage in them. Suddenly his wild black hair gave more of the impression of a mane. Draco tried to get his body to move but he felt paralyzed. Fuck, he was scared!

Snarling like an animal, Draco slammed his fist into the side of Potter's head. Potter let out a cry of pain and released him. Draco massaged his neck gasping. He'd have Potter pay twice over for that. He drew his wand and fired a muttered jinx at Potter. He hadn't mastered non-verbal yet. Potter quickly deflected, the jinx ricocheting off of his shield charm and knocking a dozen books off of the shelf.

Colorful lights exploded around them as Malfoy dueled Potter. Jinx after jinx was exchanged in a furious battle. Malfoy stumbled as a book smacked him in the face and he lost his footing. With a crash he landed on his butt among the wreckage, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Red faced and snarling, he looked around for Potter but he seemed to have disappeared. A woman's shriek behind him made him jump nearly a foot in the air. He turned to see Madam Pince sputtering at the wreckage in front of her.

* * *

Moonlight was streaming through the window. Outside it blanked the grounds in a silvery veil, like a ghostly sun. Harry could feel his stomach protesting for food but he ignored it. He felt scared. He felt like he was something closer to beast than human. Staring at the night sky he wondered if this was how Lupin had felt.

He missed Lupin, but most of all he missed Sirius. Sirius would have known what to say, what to do. He could have helped him with his anger and he wouldn't have judged him for his hunger. Harry felt a tear trickle down his face and wiped it away angrily. Stupid! It was pointless crying. Crying wouldn't bring the dead back.

He still could feel Malfoy's robes in his hand, still see his silver eyes widened in fear. Part of him felt satisfied for getting his small revenge, but the other was fiercely terrified. Few people could bring out that kind of rage in him. The rage he felt today went beyond the sickness. Malfoy had pushed his buttons perfectly and Harry had danced right along. Stupid! He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

He'd have to speak with Malfoy before the git did something extreme. There was nothing more dangerous than damaging that idiot's pride. Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Tomorrow, tomorrow he'd speak to Malfoy. Tonight he would sit in this damn window. He was too sad and too tired to sleep.

* * *

**A/N **Alright so we have some Dumblydore action and some Draco Harry action. Right now they're being little dorks. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, faved, or followed. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside knowing there's people out there enjoying my work. Thank you so much! Drop me a review if you have something you'd like to say about this chapter or the story in general.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Fear. He could feel it overflowing from him as he jolted awake. Draco opened his eyes to the darkness of the dormitory room. His entire body was trembling; he could feel his heart racing in his chest. Minutes dragged by as he tried to calm down. Fuck, he was scared. The phantom of the Dark Lord's eyes were still burned into his mind.

The task wasn't going to plan. He could feel his shaking increase, the nightmare had been horrible. He could see his parents dead on the floor with their blood seeping into his shoes. Draco pressed his hand to his lips and tried to calm the shaking. Nobody could see him in such a weakened state. He tried to calm his breathing while making virtually no sound.

The dormitory room was lit by a soft green glow. He could make out the sleeping forms of his roommates, none of them seemed to have awoken. Moving as quietly as he could, he grabbed his wand, got dressed, and slipped out of the room.

The Common Room's fire was burning low. It cast eerie shadows among the arm chairs and sofas. Draco kneeled in front of the fire and tried to focus himself. The flames licked up the logs and shivered as though greeting him with their fiery fingers. He sat in front of the fire for a while, just watching the flames. It calmed him down. He could remember doing it since he was a kid, sitting in front of the grand fireplace in the Manor.

Some nights when neither his father nor his mother came home, he would just spend curled up in front of the fire. The heat was calming and made him feel less lonely. The Manor had always made him feel very small. It had so many rooms, some he'd never even visited, and had so many secrets. When he was younger he had always asked why they couldn't live in a smaller house. He always had gotten the same answer: _It's your honor as a pureblood_. Was it also his honor to have his and his family's life threatened by the Dark Lord?

Stupid. He dug his nails into his palm. Of course it was his honor. It was the highest honor to be given such a task from the Dark Lord. He would succeed and then he would be treated above all. However the task seemed so daunting; it stretched out before him like a steep cliff that he couldn't dream of climbing. He felt so small, so miniscule. How could he kill Albus Dumbledore? It was impossible. If even the Dark Lord couldn't, how could he? It was overwhelming.

He was one of the first ones at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. A couple of the Slytherins greeted him brusquely, but none stayed to chat. Draco poked at his sausage gloomily. He needed something to take his steam off on. At that moment his eyes zeroed in on a familiar head of black hair entering the hall. _Potter_.

Draco was about to stand up when Pansy sat down beside him and clung to his arm, "Hey cutie!"

He had to remind himself several times that the Parkinsons were a valued pureblood family before he reacted, "Hello Pansy."

She nuzzled against him, "You've been avoiding me you grump. Have you been busy with the task?"

"Of course," Draco said, a trace of his old smugness coming back.

"Ugh, look at that cow," Pansy sneered as Cho Chang walked by, "I heard she jumped to Potty after Cedric. What a slut."

Draco watched the Asian girl curiously. She was pretty by most standards with beautifully shaped eyes and sleek brown hair, but she didn't really do it for him. Mostly it surprised him that Potter had gotten with such a pretty girl, not that Potter was bad looking. He had actually filled out in recent years and was rather- he stopped himself. There was no way he was going to finish that train of thought.

"Draco," Pansy whined, in a way she obviously thought cute, "Why aren't you listening?"

She had been talking? He'd been watching Potter get up and leave the Great Hall alone. Muttering an excuse to Pansy, he got up and followed Potter out. It only took a few minutes for Potter to duck into an unused classroom. Draco hesitated by the door for a second before slipping inside.

"I need to talk to you, Malfoy," Potter said, facing him and clearly having been aware of being followed.

Draco examined his nails, "Come to beg for forgiveness?"

"Last I checked you were the one following me."

Draco could feel his cheeks warm, "I'm warning you Potter. I can ma-"

"Make life hell for me," Potter bared his teeth in less of a smile and more of a grimace, "I know. You can try. I don't want to fight you-"

"Could have fooled me."

"-so for fucks sake just quit it. Stop threatening me."

Draco eyed him, "Why?"

Potter looked perplexed, 'Why? Because it's a shitty thing to do."

Draco smiled, "But it's fun."

"It's fun," Potter ran a hand through his hair, "You're bothering me because it's fun?"

"You're a spoiled brat," Draco said, "The teachers treat you specially, you're Dumbledore's pet, you're a _precious Gryffindor_." He could feel his rage building with every word, "You always get the girl you want, you have the perfect best friends, you're famous, you're praised a hero, you're so _precious_." He spat the final word like it was poison, "_Famous Harry Potter_."

Potter shook his head, "You're getting everything wrong Malfoy. Do you know a single thing about me?"

"You're a half-blood."

"Something that matters."

Draco snorted, "I know you're raised by Muggles who don't even want you."

His heart lurched unevenly as the full impact of those words hit him. From the look on Potters face he knew he'd hit a nerve. Somehow he felt guilt instead of pleasure at the sight. He wanted to apologize. The foreignness of the feeling struck him like a blow to the head. He actually was feeling sorry for Potter. Something was squeezing his throat and he knew he had to say something.

"I'm-" The word wouldn't come out, "You're- I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't worry about it," Potter said wearily, "You're just an insensitive prick anyways."

"D-do they know?" Draco asked.

"Does who know what?" Potter asked.

"Do the Muggles know you're Infected?"

Potter laughed at him, "Do you think they'd let me live with them if they knew? I'm a monster, remember?"

"You're not, you're not that bad," Draco mumbled.

Potter stared at him and Draco felt his face heat up. What was he doing? Why was he acting so meek in front of Potter? He was the enemy, he was a monster! The disgust wouldn't come up though and he felt something painful in his chest. He fucking hated the way Potter looked when he talked about being a monster. Normally he hated his face but he really fucking hated his face when he looked sad.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter asked bluntly, "Why do you keep bothering me? Why are you a complete shithead one second and then suddenly I'm 'not that bad' the next?"

"I don't fucking know!" He snarled and raked through his hair as though he wished to rip it out, "I don't understand at all but I can't leave you alone-"

"So you pity me."

"NO!" He roared, "I just don't fucking like your stupid face when you're sad! You're supposed to be this happy asshole and I'm supposed to hate you! But that doesn't even fucking matter!" He laughed slightly hysterically, "None of this was supposed to happen! We were supposed-"

With a snap he shut his mouth. He wouldn't go there; he wouldn't open the hurt that had been brewing for six long years. There was a raging storm inside of him. His lungs were pumping torrent winds through his bloodstream and a sea raged in his stomach. Rain threatened to spill from his eyes like liquid silver. He wanted to scream and hit Potter until he understood, but violence wouldn't solve anything.

Potter was watching him with a mixture of surprise and something else. It had to be disgust, it was disgust. Draco already felt unbalanced from a shitty night, and now he was coming to pieces in front of Potter over the past. How stupid of him. Defensive rage filled him and he wanted to slap Potter, to hurt him. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to make him see that he was worth more than the Slytherin stereotype, that he could be bathed in silver and green and not be tainted. In a fucked up way he just wanted Potter's approval. He wanted to hurt him, but he also wanted his approval. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"For fuck's sake Malfoy," Potter said, "You're making no sense. Stop beating around the fucking bush and come out with it!"

"I don't hate you!" Draco blurted out, "I just fucking hate the way you act like everything is so easy! Like saving people is second nature! Like you're not scared to death in the face of deadly monsters and insurmountable tasks! And you always break the rules and always get off! When I broke my father's prized quill-"

His breath was coming in harsh gasps now and he couldn't get any more words out. He wanted to vomit every last bit of this painful feeling out until he could start over as something new. Potter had to _know_. He had to know that everything wasn't Draco's fault and that if things had gone to plan they would have been- With a mental push he shoved the dangerous train of thought out of his head completely. Potter was watching him.

"What did he do?" Potter asked.

"Nothing!" Draco gasped, "Nothing, it's nothing, forget I said anyth-"

"Malfoy!" Potter grabbed him by the shoulders and held him by the jaw so he'd look at him, "If your father is abusing you-"

"He's not abusing me!" Draco snarled, shoving Potter away, "Anyways you wouldn't care. I'm an insensitive prick and you hate me."

"You are an insensitive prick," Potter said, "You're selfish and you hurt people whenever you're angry or just for kicks. But that doesn't mean I'll leave you alone when your father is abusing you."

"So I'm another victim for you to rescue?" Draco gave him a disgusted look, "Thanks Potter but I don't need the sympathy. My father is a perfectly respectable man he wouldn't . . ."

"Your father is a Death Eater."

"Just because you're on the losing side-"

"It's not about the sides," Potter said, "It's about whether or not you're being treated like shit at home."

"Why do you care?"

Potter grabbed for his robes and for a second Draco thought he was going to jinx him, but then his robes were on the floor and his shirt pulled up. An ugly scar covered his chest like the skin had been burnt off and covered with bubbly scar tissue. Draco could feel his breath whoosh out at the sight and sickness filled him. The pain he must have been put through to get such a horrible scar made him blanch. He stared at Potter in shock.

"Seven years old," Harry said in a dull voice, "I pissed my cousin off and he poured extremely hot grease on me. I was put in my cupboard for a week because I wouldn't stop crying."

Draco could feel horrified tears pricking the corner of his eyes, "Your- those Muggles?! And what do you mean by cupboard?!"

"I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

Draco shrugged, unable to look Potter in the eye, "Curses don't leave a mark, except . . ." His eyes rested on Potter's scar.

"Your dad-" Potter seemed to be having trouble speaking past his rage, "The- the Cruciatus Curse?!"

"I'm a pureblood," Draco said stiffly, "I have certain things required of me and when I don't meet those demands . . ."

"For fuck's sake," Potter grabbed him again as though he could transfer something unspoken to him, "Why haven't you told someone?! Dumbledore could-"

"What could they do?" Draco asked brutally, "Accuse my father of something they have no proof of? And then what? I'll just be found dead in a ditch a couple weeks later because I displeased the Dark Lord. Anyways it's not like you care."

"I could learn to care," Potter said quietly.

Draco stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you could just stop being an asshole for five minutes then I could help you."

"How?"

Potter squeezed his shoulders painfully, "I- I could be your friend. I could talk to Dumbledore, we could arrange something."

"You're willing to be my friend?" Draco said blankly.

"If you change," Potter said, "If you stop treating everyone around you like shit, if you stop calling my friends horrible names."

"Why?"

"I don't hate you," Potter said, "I think a lot of who you are has to do with what you grew up in. If our roles had been switched, who could I have been to do anything better?"

"You'll be my friend," Draco said quietly, tasting the sentence on his tongue, "A friend."

"If you can stand being friends with a monster," Potter said, smiling bleakly.

"You're not- you're not that scary," Draco said softly, "I don't think you really qualify as a monster."

"Not yet," Potter sighed, "But it'll happen eventually. So will you be my friend until I go insane?"

Yes. Draco had wanted to be his friend since he had met him. Just to be friends with someone who knew nothing about the wizarding world and someone his father would tolerate. Just a friend. Someone to chase away the endless nights of loneliness. Someone to understand how terrified he was every morning he woke up and realized the consequences of his father's decisions.

"Yes," Draco said, "As long as you'll be mine until . . ."

He let the sentence hang and he knew Potter understood. Neither of them were likely to survive the year and they both knew it. It was always just one more day.

* * *

**A/N** What a long fight. But they did get a lot of stuff out there and that's important. So much dialogue! *wipes forehead* I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for any reviews, favs, or follows!


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The tip of the wand was carefully rested on his jugular. He could feel his skin brushing against it with every heartbeat. It went ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, like his heart wanted to challenge the caster. Maybe that was true, because he felt nothing but contempt for the greasily haired man who had him at his mercy. Snape's lips curled into a smile and he moved the wand away.

"Once again unable to perform non-verbal," He said smoothly, "Tut, tut, how you had gotten an Outstanding is beyond me. It's ludicrous to think you even managed to pass."

Harry could feel his face heating up in rage but he wouldn't rise to the challenge. Tight lipped, he stood up. Snape was watching him with evident enjoyment. Fuck him. Fuck him and his fucking-

"Sir, Potter probably is struggling because of Quidditch practice. He has a lot going on with training a team and it doesn't give him much time to practice spell-work."

Most people wouldn't have believed Draco Malfoy had said it if they hadn't seen it. Hermione and Ron were staring as though Malfoy had suddenly sprouted wings. Snape's expression was blank and for a minute nobody spoke. The impact of the words was just settling in. Everyone was trying to process what had just happened like chewing a particularly tough piece of meat. Harry nodded at Malfoy in thanks but of course that went unnoticed.

"If you think Potter deserves reprieve," Snape said quietly, "Then perhaps you should study with him. Go on, pair up. Maybe you can teach him something. My words are clearly failing to get through his thick skull." He looked around at everyone, "Back to casting!"

Harry moved in front of Malfoy and mouthed, "Thanks."

It had been a month since he'd first made the pact to be friends with Malfoy. Things had returned to mostly normal but it was _different_. Malfoy had stopped making snide remarks and he told off his friends when they did. There was a dynamic change. They weren't the arch rivals anymore. Harry wasn't sure what they were.

He raised his wand in preparation for Malfoy to jinx him. Malfoy was very still and slightly purple in the face. Harry could have laughed out loud, he looked ridiculous, but he'd hurt Malfoy's pride. Wild. The day he'd be worried about hurting Malfoy's pride had finally come. Wrapping his head around the idea of being friends with Malfoy amazed him every time. He hadn't thought he or Malfoy was capable of it. After a couple minutes Harry spoke.

"Would you like me to give it a shot?"

Malfoy shook his head and continued to look like he was giving birth. Harry tried to look sympathetic but he might have smiled a bit because Malfoy gave him a murderous glare. Around them people were either purple in the face or muttering under their breath while Snape wasn't nearby. Harry readjusted his grip and rolled his shoulders. Non-verbal wasn't _exactly_ the issue, it was more the spells they were preforming.

A jet of light burst from Malfoy's wand and Harry automatically cast a Shield Charm. The spell went whizzing away and popped loudly as it hit one of the paintings. Harry grinned at Malfoy, dropped the shield, and shot a stunner at him. The jinx exploded into a shower of sparks against Malfoy's Shield Charm. They stood there staring at each other, wands raised.

Something inside of Harry was stirring. Maybe Malfoy felt it too because there was something different in his eyes. Harry could feel something like a flame of interest inside of him and along with it came forbidden thoughts. His wand lowered a fraction. He wanted to do something, say something, to understand this feeling. Something about Malfoy was giving Harry a feeling like hunger.

The bell rang and the illusion broke. Malfoy lowered his wand and moved in among the Slytherins. Harry pocketed his wand and sank into the stream of Gryffindors. Suddenly the distance between the two houses seemed vast and Harry felt disgruntled. His friendship with Malfoy seemed perverted in a sense, it seemed disgusting and wrong. He slung his bag higher over his shoulder and found his way to Ron and Hermione.

"Malfoy must have eaten something funny this morning," Ron said, cleaving a path through the students.

Hermione was watching Harry keenly and he cleared his throat awkwardly before saying, "Yeah . . ."

"It's surprising," Hermione said suddenly, "Malfoy hasn't spoken a word to our group in a month. And you haven't said one about his."

Harry shrugged, "He hasn't bothered us so why should I bother him?"

Ron laughed, "Doesn't change that he's a slimy git."

"Lay off of him," He snapped angrily.

There was a thick silence in the group. Harry could feel himself getting irrationally angry. He spent a lot of time irrationally angry. Although this anger might have been rational, he was friends with Malfoy after all. Hermione kept staring at him with the strangest look as they walked. He felt uneasy. She probably knew something was up.

That evening's practice went sour extremely fast. Ron was still angry with him defending Malfoy and it showed in his playing. Finally Harry had to call the match to an end when Ron started yelling at the other players.

"Everyone down!" Harry called, "Great practice guys! That's enough for tonight!"

He felt the wind brush his face as he descended to the ground. The sun was a fiery orb on the horizon licked with orange and pink splashes. For a couple minutes he forgot all of his worries, even the hunger seemed like an insignificant, hollow pain. Then his feet touched the ground and they all came back. Ron stumped past him muttering swear words under his breath. The rest of the team followed talking jovially. It had been a good practice, although Ron went sour near the end.

"Ron! Wait up!" Harry called, jogging to catch up to him.

"What?" Ron asked angrily, "Here to defend your precious Death Eater spawn?"

The ground was spongy under their feet as they headed to the changing room. Each lungful of air brought the smell of clean evening air. Harry walked alongside Ron in silence for a few moments. He looked up and knew soon the stars would be twinkling in the evening sky. Words swam through his head like fish in a glass bowl, but none seemed to make sense.

"Malfoy isn't a bad guy," He said finally.

Ron stared at him in disbelief, "You're kidding me? You're actually defending him! Bloody hell! He's been a dick to us for _years_ and suddenly you're his biggest fan?!"

"What if he changes?"

"What?"

They had entered the changing room and their conversation had to stop. Harry gave his usual pep talk about how they were going to crush Slytherin. Once they were changed they headed back up to the castle. Seizing his chance, Harry pulled Ron back and picked up their conversation where they'd left off.

"What if he changes, Ron?"

Ron laughed scornfully at the idea, "Malfoy won't change, Harry. Toadstools don't change their spots."

Harry grabbed a fistful of his robes to stop him walking away, "_What if he does_?"

"He won't."

"Stop saying that!" He snarled, "He's already started changing and you're too blind to see it!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron's face was turning red, "You think Malfoy's changing? Well then he's tricked you. He's nothing but Death Eater spawn-"

Harry didn't know what set him off so violently but then his fist was sinking into Ron's face. Ron fell to the ground in a heap. Breathing heavily, Harry shook his hand. Fuck. Why'd he do that? His own anger surprised him. Maybe Ron was right, maybe Malfoy had tricked him. Ron stumbled to his feet swearing and pulled his wand on Harry.

"If you wanted to fucking go, mate, you coulda told me," Ron snapped angrily, "You almost broke my fucking nose."

Harry gestured at his own cheek, "Come on, hit me. Hit for hit and we move on."

Ron didn't hesitate and Harry was still rubbing his face ruefully when they arrived in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione nearly had a fit when she saw the black eyes they'd scored. Harry didn't stay long to chat though and headed up the spiralling staircase to his room.

Harry breathed out a loud sigh and fell onto his bed. He was exhausted. The hunger was always getting worse; he could feel it driving him mad. He wanted to sink his teeth into something to get them to stop aching. Every time his thoughts would flow over to Malfoy. Something about Malfoy made him hungry. He rubbed his forehead angrily. It was stupid. He was supposed to be friends with Malfoy, not fucking eat him.

Despite his hunger, he wanted to see Malfoy. He pulled out what looked like an old piece of parchment and tapped it murmuring the pass-phrase. Inky black lines filled the parchment as the Marauder's Map came to life. It was a complete map of Hogwarts along with little labeled dots that showed where every single entity in the castle was. His eyes scanned the parchment but he didn't find any sign of Malfoy. Frustrated, he flipped it around and tried looking more carefully. Weird. Was Malfoy leaving the castle? He resolved to ask Malfoy about it the next day.

* * *

"You're lying to me."

He could smell it on Malfoy like a hog's stench. Liar. Harry felt a bit disappointed that Malfoy was lying to him. Of course he couldn't expect Malfoy to be completely honest with him. He had his secrets, but he had _hoped_ he would at least tell him where he went.

"I told you," Malfoy said irritably, "I was in my dormitory. Why does it matter?"

They were standing in a secret deserted corridor. Harry could smell the students walking by, unsuspecting of anything. Malfoy always insisted in meeting in secret. Harry didn't exactly feel the same way but he'd play along for Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Harry said, "Please just tell me."

"Who even says I was outside of my room?" His face was beginning to flush, "Are you _spying_ on me Potter?"

Harry quickly backpedaled, "I was just double checking. I had a- a dream that you were roaming the halls and got in trouble."

It wasn't one of his better excuses but hopefully it would avert suspicion. He had his own secrets to guard and the Marauder's Map was one of them.

"So you dreamt about me?" Malfoy smelled pleased although his face remained indifferent.

"What about it?" Harry asked, feeling distinctly awkward despite it being a lie. He _had_ dreamt of Malfoy but it wasn't last night.

"It means I'm important to you," Malfoy said smugly.

Harry shook his head and laughed, "Of course you're important to me. You're my friend."

Malfoy smiled a bit, "Surprised it would ever happen, Potter."

It felt as if they were dancing a thin line. They claimed to be friends but at the same time hadn't tested their friendship. There were very few memories to share and even fewer that weren't arguments. They continued the waltz waiting to see who would fall, who would make the first stumble. Harry didn't know when they would truly earn the title of friends as he, Ron, and Hermione had, but he was looking ahead with curious eyes.

His head throbbed and he flinched. Fuck. Malfoy's scent was making him dizzy with hunger. He wanted to sink his teeth into Malfoy and rip out every last bit of him.

"You okay, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "I'm fine."

"You're hungry," He guessed.

"I'm always hungry."

Every breath was like tasting a new depth of Malfoy's scent. He could smell his shampoo and artificial scents but there was also the undertone of sweat and blood. Malfoy's body reeked of humanity and something else that drew Harry in. He couldn't put a name to it, but he'd never smelled it on anyone else before and his stomach was screaming to be fed by that scent.

"Maybe you could try eating animals?"

Harry stared at Malfoy in disgust, "Humans are just animals. What's to stop me from swapping from Bambi to you?"

"Bambi?" Malfoy cocked his head, "What's a Bambi?"

"Never mind," Harry said, "Anyways I just can't, okay?"

"What, are you afraid of eating animals?" Malfoy snickered, "Come on Potter-"

"I _can't_," Harry snapped.

"A couple mice wouldn't kill you."

"_I can't_!" Harry said.

He turned and started walking away, nearly running. His heart was racing and he could taste blood on his tongue. His teeth had punctured his lip when he tried chewing on it nervously. Malfoy called after him, but he didn't stop. It was stupidly dangerous to stay so near to Malfoy. His smell. His fucking smell!

"I said wait!"

Malfoy grabbed him by the robes and turned him around. Harry could feel his teeth aching as he stared at him. _Danger_. Oxygen laced with his scent was intoxicating him. He could feel himself moving forward, his hand touching Malfoy's cheek. He was so soft. Malfoy stared at him as though entranced, or maybe frozen in fear. Harry licked his lips and his eyes trailed down to Malfoy's neck. There was where he would taste the blood and flesh. Every breath Malfoy took gushed more of his scent into the air.

Harry took another step forward, his eyes fastened onto his lips. His emotions were an unstable mess and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Malfoy made him hungry. Their faces were centimeters away now, their bodies nearly touching. Malfoy was staring up at him through his silvery lashes, a faint blush on his cheeks. He had no idea what horrible things Harry was thinking. He had no idea that Harry wanted to hurt him. Harry could feel Malfoy's breath mingling with his own. Electricity seemed to be running a current through the air between them.

Malfoy's breathing had become nearly non-existent in suspense and Harry could hear his heart racing. Each thump made Harry's own heart race faster until they were pounding in sync. Their hearts were singing a bloody duet, dancing at a frenzied pace. Every heartbeat pounded through his body into his tingling fingertips. He needed to, he _had_ to-

"Potter!"

Snape was striding towards them looking furious, his face white with rage. Harry stepped back and opened his mouth to explain, but Snape's swished his wand violently. Chains leapt out of the tip and wrapped around Harry. With a crash Harry fell to the ground and it fucking _hurt_. His breath wooshed out in a gasp and his lungs labored to try and get air back.

"Draco, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Professor! It- it was nothing. It wasn't what you were thinking!"

Harry groaned as the chains tightened on him. He couldn't breathe. Fear filled him like a gas. He'd had his breath knocked out before, but he'd forgotten the fear of losing the ability to breathe. He rolled over so he could see Malfoy and Snape. Malfoy's face was beet red, something unusual. For a couple seconds Harry couldn't figure out why he'd be embarrassed, but then he realized how the situation had probably looked from Malfoy's eyes.

"Professor," Malfoy was saying, "Why have you chained up Potter? He wasn't going to hurt me!"

"You have no idea what Potter is capable of," Snape said briskly, training his wand on Harry, "And you'll be thankful if you never find out."

* * *

**A/N **This took me an inhuman amount of time to write. I really hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for any and all support shown!


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

The room was in the dungeons and with it came the cold. The only time he actually felt warm was when he was in the magically heated bath. Living in lockdown wasn't as bad as he had originally thought. He got a small room with a desk, bookshelf, sitting area, and a room that led off and served as a bedroom. The bathroom was attached to the bedroom. Maybe it had served as teacher's quarters once before, he didn't know.

When he was first put in lockdown he'd been mad. He wouldn't have hurt Malfoy! He thought. He spent a lot of time yelling at deaf walls and stomping around. His only company had been Snape, who seemed to be having a right ball. He visited once a day to check up on him. Make sure he was still breathing, he supposed. Harry had been furious. Past tense.

Now he saw the danger. He saw the potential risk he had taken with Malfoy. Guilt was his only friend in this dungeon where his carcass rotted. It sat with him at every meal of ash. It took baths with him and sat on his chest while he lied in bed. He had taken a risk. He could have killed Malfoy. He felt even more tainted than usual.

Dirty. He felt fucking dirty. The sickness had tainted him and he felt guilt for his very existence. Malfoy had been right to avoid him all of those years. Harry curled up into a ball on his bed and tried to not think. But of course he was horrible at that. Thoughts swarmed him like maggots on rotted meat. His stupid rotted brain.

He remembered his childhood. He remembered feeling worthless and the feeling had never quite gone away. One doesn't just forget the feeling. It lurks in the corner of their mind, always there, always waiting to spring back up again. Now it was suffocating him. These dungeon walls seemed too close. The cold air was taking away his breath and he could feel the frost inside of his chest.

Time wasn't very well managed in lockdown. Every day a different teacher came in and tutored him for a couple hours. Their faces just blurred; none of them stayed to chat. Harry had questions for days, but they stayed unspoken. He missed Hermione and Ron and somehow he missed Malfoy as well. Despite wanting to eat him, he missed him. He didn't know how many days passed.

His feelings for Malfoy were in torment. He wanted Malfoy, period. Whether it was to hit him, or eat him, or _kiss him_. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Every time his thoughts strayed to that line of thinking he'd tug his hair angrily and try to think of something else. He still didn't know if he had meant to kiss Malfoy back in that corridor or if he'd meant to take a bite out of him. Somehow the two seemed to blur together into one emotion; desire.

Was it normal to want to eat someone you also wanted to kiss? Or was the desire to kiss merely a side effect of wanting to eat them? But then again he'd never seen Ron snogging a chicken leg. Every time he thought of Malfoy his chest would burn like someone had lit a flame in it. So often he'd thought it was rage. Now he wasn't so sure. But why did he want to eat him?

And then his thoughts would loop right back around to him being dirty, because of course only dirty things wanted to eat the people they _possibly_ wanted to (possibly) kiss. In the dungeon where he had very little to do, this thought process was dangerous. The only thing he had to look forward to was sleeping. Sleeping at least was release. Sleeping was something akin to peace. When he was sleeping he wasn't dirty.

When he wasn't stressed about Malfoy or his sickness, he stressed about his team. How would they be faring without their Captain and Seeker? Surely Dumbledore would at least let him out to play the match. The idea of losing the first match of the season (especially to the Slytherins) made him ill.

Despite his reluctance, Harry quickly became accustomed to the lifestyle of living in solitary confinement. Part of it was a blessing. There were no human scents to tempt him. It was a good thing. It had to be. He missed a certain scent, but he wouldn't think about the owner. Dangerous thoughts with dangerous conclusions.

* * *

His eyes opened to darkness. It was a calm darkness like an inky black blanket that gently hugged him instead of suffocating him. Harry sat up in his bed and tried to remember what day it was. He'd forgotten to ask Professor McGonagall. Yawning, he put on his glasses and reflectively grasped for his wand. Nothing. They'd taken his wand. Swearing angrily, he tried to feel his way through the pitch darkness.

Light flared into existence as the torches sensed he was awake. They sent his shadow dancing wildly against the grey stone that made up the room. Harry cracked his neck and arched his back, trying to remove the stiffness from his body. Another yawn filled him and he could feel himself tearing up. He was tired. Almost too tired to feel his stomach beginning to growl.

The walls were unpleasantly close even in the main room. He could feel them pressing the air around him thickly. Harry sat down at the desk and began trying to get through his homework. His mind felt groggy. Time trickled by and he wished more than anything that he had a clock.

What was Malfoy doing right now? Probably pissed as hell, Harry smiled ruefully. He could imagine how enraged Malfoy would be if he thought Harry was trying to hit on him. Would he be angrier if he had known it was either kiss him or eat him? How he would explain when he got out of here, if he got out of here, was beyond him. Maybe a poet could have made pretty words to soothe his anger. Ha. Harry a poet? The absurdity of the idea got a chuckle out of him.

Time seemed to become liquid in the suffocating dungeon room. Sometimes it rushed pass like a roaring waterfall, others it made every second an hour by dragging like corn syrup. He knew eventually someone would come for him, but deep down he feared the timelessness. It reminded him of hours alone in the cupboard, days alone. Most of all, ironically enough considering his condition, he was lonely.

Snape showed up when Harry was resting on his bed. He could tell he'd arrived by the way the temperature in the room dropped. Grumbling under his breath, Harry got to his feet and went to greet his least favorite teacher.

"Wasting away the time as usual I see, Potter," Snape said coldly.

Harry knew he could see his completed homework but decided not to remark on it.

"I'll take your essay on reanimation magic," Snape waved his wand and grabbed the parchment that zoomed towards him, "Now I, unfortunately, have to have a conversation with you about your stay here."

"Am I getting out?" Harry asked hopefully, forgetting his anger.

"Not yet," Snape said quietly, "The Headmaster however, seems to believe you've been on very good behavior. He's willing to give you a second chance."

"I didn't even hurt anyone," Harry muttered angrily.

"Because I stopped you," He said, "And I'm not willing to give you a second chance. But I am not the Headmaster so . . ." He let the sentence trail off.

Their lesson continued as usual but Harry's mind was somewhere else. He couldn't stop chewing over the hard little lump in his mind that screamed 'Dumbledore doesn't trust you!'. It made him angry and he knew he needed Dumbledore. Dumbledore could stop what was happening to Malfoy. Dumbledore could stop Voldemort. Dumbledore had stuck him in here. Dumbledore was- fuck.

He was going to go mad. He was going to go mad and he was going to hurt someone. Maybe it was best to stay in this dungeon. At least here he was safe.

God, these walls were suffocating him.

* * *

**A/N** I wrote this months ago, but never posted due to its shortness. I'll be posting it along with the next chapter. I'm sorry for my sudden disappearance but things happen sometimes that require my attention. Thank you for anyone who's still here.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

He threw his wand at the ground, his chest heaving. It wasn't going well at all! Fuck! Draco kicked the Vanishing Cabinet, his head thundering with fear and rage. How was this going to work? How could this possibly work?! A sob rose in his throat but he stuffed it down quickly. There wasn't a chance in hell that he would be caught crying. He wasn't some baby.

The Room of Requirement was cluttered around him. Lost and forgotten things were scattered in precarious piles. Broken potion bottles glinted in the dusty light, their contents spilled out in hardened globs across contraband books. It smelled musty in the room that seemed to stretch for miles, and slightly sour. It had become his prison.

Draco retrieved his wand and began looking through the heavy bound tome he'd taken from the library. Most of it was nonsense to him, but he knew that this book would contain the information he needed. It _had_ to. Repairing powerful magical items wasn't simple; it was more than waving a wand and casting a basic Repairing Charm.

He'd tried the damn methods but getting things past security wasn't easy. It hurt his pride a bit to think that Filch wouldn't take bribes. Blundering idiot. He'd tried the Restoration Draught –it had cost him too many Galleons- and he'd tried the illusion snake skin tape, but none of it worked. He could feel the panic set in even as he leafed through the parchment. He needed something that worked!

Break would be over soon so he picked up his bag and left the room. Crabbe was waiting outside, Polyjuiced into some second year. His face was set in a frown. Draco didn't stop at him, he just kept on walking. The Polyjuice would wear off soon enough and it wasn't like Draco made a habit of talking to second years.

He was coming down the stairs to the Entrance Hall when someone called his name angrily. Annoyed, he turned to see the Mu- Granger and Weasley storming towards him. They didn't look very happy but Draco couldn't immediately figure out why they were looking so angry. He hadn't bothered them since Potter was locked up, hell he barely even looked at them.

"What did you do to Harry?" Granger hissed once she was in arm's reach.

"You're the one who got him into confinement," Weasley snarled, "We heard Snape talking about it so don't try lying!"

"I didn't do anything to get Potter in confinement," Draco said sourly, "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Something funny was going on between you and Harry," Granger said fiercely, blocking his way, "Out of the blue you two start getting chummy. We put up with it because it didn't seem like it was hurting Harry but now he's in confinement! _What did you do_?"

"Nothing," Draco said, "That was all on Potter. He let his sickness get in the way. He probably would have taken a chunk out of me if Snape hadn't intervened."

He felt his face warm slightly at the memory. Of course at the time he had thought Potter was going to kiss him, as stupid as it sounded. Part of him still thought Potter would have kissed him. Part of him wished he had. Hot embarrassment filled him, to think he wanted Potter to kiss him! It was ridiculous! Potter wasn't even a Pureblood and he was raised like a Mud- Muggle-born.

"What do you mean about his sickness?" Weasley asked sharply.

So they didn't know, "Nothing," He pushed past Granger, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have dinner to eat."

It turned out that keeping his silence wasn't as easy as he'd bargained. Granger and Weasley were rather persistent in their efforts to get him to squeal, but he was a Malfoy and Malfoys were skilled in keeping secrets. He could just imagine the look on Potter's face if his sickness got out. It made his stomach turn over at the idea. He would keep Potter's secret.

* * *

"Professor," Draco said after a rather slow Defense Against the Dark Arts class, "I need to speak with you."

Snape gave him an appraising look before nodding curtly, "Make it quick Malfoy."

Crabbe and Goyle lagged behind giving Draco a curious look. He shook his head slightly and nodded at the door. They left the room. Once they were alone, Draco spoke up.

"Sir, where is Potter?"

"Somewhere where he won't be a danger," Snape said.

"Do you think I could see him?" He asked, "It's been a while and I'm-"

"Malfoy," Snape interrupted, "If you intend on wasting my time with questions you know the answer to, you should leave."

"Is he going to come back?" Draco burst out, noticing how desperate he sounded.

Snape smirked, "That's up to the Headmaster. How's your project going Draco?"

He bristled instantly, like Snape cared. Snape just wanted the glory of being the one to kill Dumbledore. A tiny part of him wanted to spill everything and have the guidance, but he knew that wouldn't work. It was _his_ project. He would bring glory to his disgraced family. Voldemort would kill him if he let anyone know what he was up to, even if Snape _claimed_ to know.

"Crabbe and Goyle are waiting for me," He said stiffly.

"I can help you," Snape said quietly, his voice urging him to listen, "The Dark Lord has set you too great a task, you know you won't be able to succeed. He just wants your father to suffer for his blunder at the Ministry-"

"And where were you?" Draco snarled, "Why weren't you alongside my father?"

"The Dark Lord didn't need his most useful spy to be revealed so early in the game," Snape snapped, "He was well aware of my part in getting Potter to the Ministry."

He could feel his fists clenched in anger, his nails digging little red crescents into his palm. Of course Snape had gotten to be comfortable playing lapdog to Dumbledore while his father fought in the Ministry. Snape should have been the one locked up in Azkaban! His anger was replaced with a slightly ill feeling. If his father hadn't been locked up, what would that have meant for Potter? And wasn't his father being locked up a good thing?

"Goodbye, Professor," Draco said coolly, and turned his back on Snape.

* * *

He felt tired. Dinner was a quiet event and he ignored the other Slytherins. Even Pansy seemed to understand that he was not in the mood. He just wanted to see Potter and apologize. Potter had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was planning. Screaming nightmares kept his lips tightly sealed. He knew the consequences of squealing. Fuck. He'd seen it in action.

Maybe his father would be proud of him for prevailing. Ha. He'd probably just think he was being weak. Draco knew his father would only see his attraction to Potter as nothing but a deterrent. There were no friends for Death Eaters, only chess pieces to be sacrificed at leisure. But why the fuck should he care what his father thinks? Why did he care?

After dinner it was back to the Room of Requirement. Draco felt small in the room, tiny in front of his daunting task. He threw the book he was looking through onto the floor. Hopelessness filled him. How could he achieve his task? His face was set in an even whiter pallor as he stared at the ground, his fists shaking. It was his duty. It was his duty, it was his duty, it was his duty! He kept whispering it to himself, as if it would somehow make it true. The idea of disobeying his father made his body ache with pain he was familiar of.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Draco roamed among the towering piles of junk. Occasionally he'd pick a book or potion up, but nothing seemed to be useful. His mind was completely empty, as it so often was when he needed to hide from reality. The room seemed to get deeper and deeper the longer he walked. Something red glittered among a pile of ugly werewolf figurines that snarled and bared teeth at him. He paused and leaned closer.

It was a gem. Beautifully red and of such a high quality it had to be wizard made. He could tell by a single glance it was cursed, his father had 'schooled' him in that field, but what the curse was he'd need a spell to detect. Draco cast a non-verbal detection spell and felt exasperation and sadness wash over him. It was similar to how he felt now; unlucky. There was a high chance it would be acting like the opposite of a lucky token, so he didn't dare touch it. Instead he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped the gem in it. The cloth was enchanted to negate the effects of anything that touched it, it was a powerful artifact that he'd gotten for his birthday. He pocketed the gem, thoughts spinning through his head.

If the curse on the gem was strong enough it could kill someone. Simply enough, it could cause them to break their neck or accidently muck up a spell. Luck, or lack thereof, was extremely relevant. With a prickle of annoyance, Draco acknowledged that it was one of Potter's greatest weapons in allowing him to have defeated the Dark Lord over and over. Regardless, Draco would make his own luck. He would force it if that's what it took.

* * *

The package was easy to overlook. It looked like every other package in the history of packages; brown, crumply, and overly bulky. Draco had put the gem in a rather large box to lower suspicion and, of course, keep the curse from affecting him. The last thing he needed was a dip in his luck. He handed the package to the barn owl and couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. Potter would hate him if he knew what he was doing. Would Potter understand that he didn't have a choice? The owl took off in a flurry of feathers and Draco watched it go.

Draco felt wrong. Not for the first time, he was questioning the Dark Lord. Did he really intend for him to succeed where he could not? It was ridiculous. The Dark Lord believed nobody to be more powerful than himself. Snape was right; it was just to punish his father. Bitterness welled up, the joke was on him because Lucius didn't give a damn about Draco.

If his father had cared he wouldn't have put such heavy expectations on him. He wouldn't have tortured him when he didn't measure up. He'd let him love who he wanted. Regardless of blood status or- or what side they were on. His steps stilled as a face rose to the front of his mind. Now THAT was a dumb thought. He shoved the thought away and into his mental trashcan. If his father knew he had even _thought_ of Potter like that . . ..

As though the very thought had summoned them, Weasley and Granger were coming down the hall towards him. They hadn't seemed to have noticed him and were bickering loudly. It was a nice arrangement for him, as Granger was rather terrifying when trying to worm what was wrong with Potter out of him. Out of all of the women he'd ever met, she had to be the brightest and fiercest, although he felt annoyed to think it. After all she was a Mu-. No. Potter would be furious if he knew Draco had almost called her that word.

"Malfoy!"

It was the Weasel. He had stopped and was glaring at Draco, his face remarkably hostile. Understandably of course, but it was still annoying because Draco couldn't retaliate. Potter would be pissed if he did, assuming he ever got out of lockdown. Granger was staring at him coldly, her arms crossed tightly as though holding back whatever she wanted to say to him.

"Come on Ron," Granger said pointedly.

"But-"

"_Ron_."

Weasley gave Draco one more scathing look, and walked by with Granger. It was amusing to see the redhead put on a leash. Obviously Granger had him wrapped around her pinky finger. Draco was much too refined and proud to ever let himself become so besotted. Whatever, it wasn't like their stupid little romance affected him. He pulled his gaze from their retreating backs and walked away.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you for reading this far! I have so much planned for this story! Favorites and follows are always adored but if you're feeling like making my day, a review would be appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Harry knew it was the morning before he opened his eyes, not that opening his eyes would have helped in the windowless dungeon. What let him know was the smell. He could smell the students coming out of the Slytherin Common Room. It had started happening after what felt like his first week in confinement. The hunger pains were coming back even stronger with temptation so 'close'. Snape had been asking questions about it his last visit, but Harry would keep the scents a secret. Merlin knows where they'd lock him up next if they knew he could smell, and hunger, for Slytheirns.

The bed creaked as he got to his feet and began to stretch. It wasn't as nice as the ones in the Gryffindor dormitory, he supposed it was because he was here for 'bad behavior'. He hadn't even done anything wrong, 'yet' notwithstanding. Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on as the torches flared to life. He felt tired, like he wanted to hibernate. Today would probably be as boring as the last. At least Professor McGonagall had brought him in some books to read. When he arrived in the main room however, his plans of a leisurely read went out the window. Dumbledore was sitting in a plush armchair –that definitely hadn't been there before- and smiling at him.

"Sit down, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, "I'm sure Severus told you'd I'd be here today."

"He didn't actually," Harry said, taking a seat at his desk and spinning to face him.

Dumbledore tapped his glasses, "Hm. I'll speak to him about that. I'm assuming that means you also don't know what we're discussing today."

Harry remained silent.

"Harry, do you know what Horcruxes are?"

A chill ran down his spine. The way Dumbledore had said the word was like he was showing a particularly disgusting creature to him. Even the temperature in the room dropped.

"No, sir," Harry said.

"They are the opposite of everything good," Dumbledore said gravely, "Where you are light and love, they are darkness- and yes my boy you are light and love, especially compared to them. These creations are made from the darkest, cruelest magic."

"What do they do?" Harry asked when he paused to take a breath.

"They allow their maker immortality at the most heinous cost. These allow perfect immortality that even the Elixir of Life cannot give. Horcruxes are pieces of the caster's soul severed off and placed into an object. They-"

"Is that how?" Harry interrupted, his head racing, "Is that how Voldemort has been living when everyone thought he was dead? Is that how he came back?"

"Yes. I believe that Voldemort is using Horcruxes."

"But how are they made?" Harry stood up, his heart thundering, "If they're pieces of his soul couldn't we destroy them? And how do you know?"

Dumbledore smiled up at him, his blue eyes twinkling, "Sit down Harry and I will explain."

Immediately Harry threw himself down into his chair. His face was flushed from excitement and his eyes sparkling. Dumbledore was finally going to answer his questions, unravel the ball of secrets. Half-baked plans of destroying the Horcruxes danced through his mind. Of course he'd need to know more about them . . .. Dumbledore began speaking and Harry drank in his every word.

"Now to answer your questions. The first answer is one I don't give lightly, and I'm hoping you won't spread around this information. Horcruxes are made by damaging your soul irreparably, the simplest being killing someone in cold blood. While your soul is fragile after the murder, you must cast a spell that I will never give instruction to. It is possible to destroy Horcruxes, but you must destroy them so thoroughly they will never be able to be repaired, even through magical means. The third answer, well my dear boy, you were the one that confirmed my suspicions."

"Me?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"You handed the proof to me in your second year at Hogwarts; Tom Riddle's Diary. A Horcrux destroyed by Basilisk venom. No mere spell could have contained a 'memory' of Tom Riddle so perfectly. I believe Voldemort placed a piece of his soul in that diary."

"S-sir," Harry gasped, a sudden horrific realization dawning on him, "But if he could make these, who's to say he hasn't made hundreds and scattered them around?! Old boots and potion bottles-"

"Harry, you're mistaking them with Portkeys. Voldemort was vain and proud; he would have not hidden pieces of his precious soul in old boots. In addition, tearing the soul into pieces makes it extremely unstable. Voldemort has gone beyond ordinary evil, but even he cannot tear his soul into so many pieces. I believe he has made seven Horcruxes."

"Seven?" Harry repeated, "But how do you know? Sir."

Dumbledore sighed, "Voldemort was always fascinated with magic. I believe he would have wanted to make it mean something by making them the magically strongest number; seven."

"Seven . . ." Harry whispered in horror, "How the h- I mean, how in the world can we find them all?"

"You found one," Dumbledore said, "And I-" He flourished his right hand, "Have found one as well."

On his ring finger sat a rather thick and ugly ring. Directly down the dark stone was a large crack. It gave off the stench of decay and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Every fibre in his being was telling him there was something wrong with it, like it was a harbinger of death.

"That's still six to go," Harry said, trying to look everywhere but the ring, "How are we going to find them?"

For a long stretch Dumbledore was silent. Harry could feel the tension building. It filled the air, a thick sludge that made it hard to breathe. The silence stretched and stretched until Harry was worried Dumbledore had forgotten what he was going to say.

"How has your sickness been?" Dumbledore said quietly.

"Fine," Harry said stiffly.

"That's not the truth," Dumbledore said, "The incident with Mr. Malfoy . . . I'm afraid it's only the beginning."

"I can control myself," Harry snapped.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, "Maybe now, Harry, but what about in a few months? Your mental state will only deteriorate faster than ever before. The sickness is gaining traction, a boulder down a slope if you will."

"I-" Harry floundered for words, "I'll find a way."

"I believe there is a way," Dumbledore said, "And I'm sure you'll find it. The reason I'm having this conversation with you, is because I truly believe you'll find it. I estimate if you don't, by the end of the school year you will have lost your mind completely."

A cold sensation filled Harry's stomach. He had known it was coming of course, but to have a time limit put on it- his chest was trying to cave in on itself. What was the fucking point if he was just going to die at the end of the year? The prophecy said he couldn't live while Voldemort was alive, it meant he had to face him, destroy him. How could he do that if he was insane? Dread was pumping through his veins. What if he had some kind of break in front of Hermione and Ron? Would he hurt them?

"Is that why you've locked me up?" Harry asked.

"No!" Dumbledore said, "Of course not, my dear boy. I've locked you up because we needed to have this conversation and I think you needed a break from constant temptation. I need to know where you stand. Are you willing to risk your life to defeat Voldemort, maybe even costing you the little time you have left?"

"OF COURSE!" Harry nearly yelled, rising to his feet, "I've always fought him! I was there when he was risen-"

"I wasn't questioning your loyalty. I just needed to make sure your objective hasn't changed."

Harry sat back down hard, "Even if I lose my mind, my loyalty will never change. Sir."

Dumbledore smiled, although it was a rather sad smile, "That's good, my boy, that's good. So young . . .," He sighed deeply, "I wish I didn't have to place such a burden on your shoulders."

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked.

"I need to prepare you. Before the end of the school year you must face him. You will be ready by then, you will- you will know what to do."

If he hadn't been sitting he would have fallen. It was as if the world was a roller-coaster and they'd just gone off the tracks three hundred feet in the air. He had to face him by the end of the year. A weak gasp of anxiety escaped his mouth. The end of the year. Always. He'd always thought he'd face him as an adult. It sounded like a fairy-tale; adulthood. Even if he managed to defeat Voldemort he'd lose his sanity before the month was out, whatever scraps of it remained. A panic was building inside of him, like his body was filled with screams.

"You'll be attending regular lessons with me," Dumbledore continued, "I'll be visiting you here once a week and will teach you everything you need to know to ultimately reach your goal," He stood up, "I'm sure you'll need some time to think. Goodbye Harry."

Barely five minutes had passed after Dumbledore's departure, when Harry couldn't take it anymore. He stumbled to his feet, swaying as though drunk, and stared around the room sightlessly. Fear filled him. Anger filled him. With a roar, he threw his chair into the wall where it smashed into splinters. Screaming like a maniac he started tearing parchment, ripping up books, clawing his own flesh. He couldn't stand one more second living his life.

It wasn't fucking fair! He lost his parents, he'd lost his future, and now he was going to lose his mind before he even completed school! Voldemort had always been his past, present, and future, but now it was really suffocating him. Even if he did the impossible, he'd still die, he'd still lose everything. Blood flowed down his arm where his nails had dug furrows. Sobbing he fell to his knees. It wasn't right!

He wanted to see Ron and Hermione get married! He wanted to become an Auror! He'd promised Professor McGonagall he would- promised himself! What would Sirius think? Would Mrs. Weasley stand at his grave while the rest of the world celebrated Voldemort's death, assuming he even managed to defeat him? He wanted to set Draco free from his crushing responsibilities, he knew the feeling all too well. There were so many things he wanted to do.

His breaths were coming in retching gasps. He couldn't accept this, couldn't look beyond this. It was impossible. Harry curled up on the ground moaning animalistic cries. He felt cheated. His entire life had been a hardship and there wasn't even a rainbow at the end. There was nothing to make it all worth it. Yes, he would fight Voldemort, to get revenge, to save his friends, but other than that there was no reward. He was shaking like he was shattering. Inside his heart was shattering. He was a monster who would die like a beast.

Eventually his tears ran dry leaving behind burning red eyes. His wounds had healed and the blood caking his arm had dried. Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. The air flowing into his lungs felt harsh and cold. He needed to sleep. It was the promise of a warm bed that pulled him to his feet and into the bathroom. The warm water failed to warm his core as he stood under the spray coming out of the shower faucet. He felt drained, exhausted, his throat raw from screaming. When he stumbled onto his bed he fell asleep almost instantly. He welcomed the oblivion, the escape. It was peace.

* * *

**A/N **Drop me a review, hit that fav and follow button or just send good thoughts my way. I'm collecting the good mojo to fuel my shriveled heart. Thank you all for reviewing, faving, following, or just reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

Fresh air filled him like a balloon as Harry gulped it back. The grass was dewy and the sun was shining weakly on him. He felt alive knowing in less than two hours he would be up in the air. Even the Forbidden Forest looked welcome after his stint in the dungeons. His lessons with Dumbledore had kept things interesting, but there was nothing quite like being let out of his cage. Birds called to each other as he stood on the hill facing the forest. The blue of the sky was like a forgotten dream. For a second he could forget the crushing weight on his shoulders.

Dumbledore had shown him memories in the Pensive. He learned things about Voldemort he'd never known. From when he was a kid torturing other kids in an orphanage, to when he was amassing his armies and asking for a job at Hogwarts. Harry could feel the weight getting heavier with every new thing he learned. It felt impossible to believe he could beat him. Endless nights, he'd lay wondering why in the world such a heavy burden was placed on him. Why could only he defeat him?

"Harry!"

He turned to see Hermione and Ron running towards him. Grinning he opened his arms and Hermione flew into his embrace. She smelled likes books and something sweet, on top of her humanity. The warmth coming from her filled his very core and he felt himself relax. He'd missed them. Ron stood behind them sort of awkwardly but their eyes met and all the unsaid words were said. Hermione's warm tears leaked onto his robes and he gently untuck her from himself.

"It's good to see you Hermione," He said, smiling widely.

She rubbed her eyes and smiled back, "I missed you so much!"

"It's good to see you, mate," Ron said, his voice rather thick and hoarse.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked, "We heard it had something to do with Malfoy but nobody would tell us anything!"

Harry felt a quick burst of heat. So Malfoy had kept his secret. That made him happier than he would ever admit, but now he was faced with a new issue. How could he explain his absence to Hermione and Ron?

"Dumbledore thought it would be good for me to take a break from such a stressful environment," Harry said quietly.

"But why didn't you contact us?" Hermione asked instantly.

Harry paused, stumped. Dammit he wasn't good at lying on demand! Ron was watching him keenly, his blue eyes hard like steel. They had both been worried and he knew he wasn't going to get off with some cheesy excuse.

"I- I couldn't," He said finally.

"What do you mean you couldn't?" Hermione asked shrilly, "Do you have any idea how worried we were? I was out of my mind with worry and Ron couldn't stop going in circles with our discussions of how to find you! I thought Malfoy had horribly injured you- or- or Snape had poisoned you-" She paused her chest heaving and Ron stole in to speak.

"I'm sure he had a reason, 'Mione."

"Then he should tell us!" She snapped, and fixed a fiery glare on Harry.

"I can't," He said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Can't," Hermione said, "Or don't want to?"

Guilt was written all over his face and she took one look before crossing her arms and looking away. Harry felt shame fill him as he watched tears escape her eyes so firmly fixated on the forest. He wanted so badly to tell her, but thinking about how she might react terrified him. For a long time nobody spoke.

"You can trust us, Harry," Ron said finally, "We're not the bad guys here."

"I-" He stumbled over his words, "It's not something I can easily tell! This- the- it's affected my entire life! I _want_ to tell you-"

"Then tell us," Ron said.

Harry looked towards the forest, "I can't."

"Is it about your sickness?" Hermione asked quietly.

He said nothing.

"What's so bad," She whispered, "That you can't tell your best friends? We've been through _everything_ with you-"

"Not everything."

His head was spinning. Again and again he could see the inside of his cupboard, the bars on his windows, the immaculately kept carpet as blows rained down on him. Inside he was a child shaking and crying, so scared to hope. He _wanted_ to tell them! He wanted to _scream_ out the truth! Every breath he took he could taste them though, he could smell their blood, their flesh, their sweat. It went down like a blend of instinctual urges and pain. How would they look at him if they knew? Would he see the same disgust he'd seen in so many other faces?

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Harry-"

"I can't say anything right now," He said roughly, "Just give me time Hermione."

"We'll always be there for you," She promised, "We'll listen to you."

"We've always believed you, mate," Ron said, "And we always will. I swear."

For a long time they just stood there, watching the sun rise and students pour from the castle. Maybe they understood some of the panic he'd been feeling, because they didn't ask any more questions. Ron filled him in on what the team had been up to (he'd been filling in as temporary Captain) and prospects were looking good. Hermione didn't talk much. She kept stealing glances at Harry when she thought he wasn't looking, her face filled with worry. His throat burned with words he wanted to say to make that face go away, but they wouldn't leave his throat.

* * *

They trudged down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Ron bade Hermione goodbye as they headed for the Gryffindor changing rooms. Inside the team greeted Harry cheerfully. At this point Ron was very silent and very green. Harry could see that his nerves were once again going to be an issue. After he gave his pep talk he pulled Ron aside.

"You gonna be okay?" Harry asked.

"Y-yeah," Ron said, swallowing nervously, "Just a bit queasy."

"You're going to do great," Harry told him, "I know you can do this Ron. I've flown with you, you're bloody brilliant when you don't let your nerves get in the way."

Ron nodded but didn't say anything, and remained silent as they left the changing rooms amidst cheers. Yelling was thunderous around them, but even through it all Harry could pick up Hermione's voice. He smiled briefly before surveying the green clad players. To his immediate dismay, he saw Malfoy was in fact not there. Instead there was some Slytherin he didn't really recognize, but he smelled hostile. Surprise, surprise; a Slytherin was hostile towards a Gryffindor.

His chest felt heavy as he mounted his broom. He really would have liked to seen Malfoy, to apologize. Where would Malfoy be even? He loved Quidditch. Something felt wrong and he could feel it in his gut. When he shook hands with the Slytheirn Captain he tried to search his face, to see if there was any worry or stress, but then again Malfoy had never mentioned him. In fact Malfoy didn't really mention any of the Slytherins. For a second Harry was caught up, but then the whistle blew and he was rising into the air like a bullet shot from a gun.

As the wind whistled past his face he felt it all go away. His hunger became a distant ache, his worries lost in the breeze. There was nothing but the game and his goal. He soared up and began looking, scouring the field for the Snitch. Occasionally he'd catch a glimmer of gold but more often than not it was a wristwatch or jewelry. On the other end of the field he could see the stand in Seeker searching. He clenched his teeth and looked away, filled with burning irritation. He had wanted to play against Malfoy.

Quickly the Gryffindors soared into the lead, but just barely. Harry could see Ron's green face even from across the field. He needed to find the Snitch quickly or their careful balance would go to hell. As he watched, Ron failed spectacularly at saving a goal. The Slytherin side erupted in cheers and Harry felt a flush of anger. He knew Ron could do this. The game was evening up now, the Slytherins only ten points behind. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit of panic as they pulled ahead. The more goals Ron failed to save the more he let in, his nerves getting worse and worse.

Harry was soaring across center field when he saw the Snitch. It was glittering and flittering around the Gryffindor goal, which the temporary Slytherin Seeker was near. Harry tried to make his way over as inconspicuously as possible. Everything seemed to stop as the Slytherin Seeker turned towards it, his eyes widening. Adrenaline pumped through Harry as he urged his broom faster, zipping like a hex towards the Snitch. He knew it was hopeless, the Slytherin Seeker was closing in, his eyes bright with pre-victory. Harry didn't think.

_Stop._

The Slytherin Seeker froze so quickly he nearly fell from his broom. His entire form was shaking and his eyes had gone blank. Harry slowed for a second, confused and scared, but saw the Snitch was getting away. With the ghost of a smile he grabbed the Snitch. It fluttered helplessly in his hand and he knew. He knew this was one of the feelings that kept him going. For a second the pitch was dead silent, everyone staring in confusion at what had happened. Then it sunk in.

Instantly the pitch erupted in deafening cheers. Harry couldn't help but grin a little as his team zipped around him in mid-air. Ginny, long ginger hair and warm brown eyes, hugged him when he landed on the ground, bringing along a citrus scent. He held the embrace for a second before he pulled away and grinned at her. Coote and Peakes were yelling in his ear and he felt Ron ruffling his hair. It felt good, one of the best feelings he knew. The team carried up to the castle, singing and cheering.

The after party was good but it got old fast. Harry could smell the excitement of the humans around him and his stomach ached. Everyone kept pressing near him, squishing him into a tight cube of human smell and flesh. Romilda Vane in particular seemed to try and get him to eat pasties and drinks she offered. What bothered him most was the fact that he kept smelling Malfoy's scent, it was driving him nuts. He wanted to see him.

"Bloody brilliant game," Seamus was saying, "Still don't know why Harper filled in. I bet-" He stopped and gave Harry a quick look before turning to Ron, "You did great, Ron. That save where you kicked the Quaffle? Unbelievable."

Seamus, Dean and Neville had joined them to talk about the game. Around them students were talking and eating, a couple Gryffindors were even playing some instruments. Seamus's eyes were glowing with excitement. He had sandy blonde hair and a Welsh accent. Neville was round faced and brown haired, rather fatter than the others. Dean was dark skinned with amber swashed eyes and a sturdy build.

"I want to know why Harper stopped mid-flight," Neville said.

Ron grinned, "He choked."

"Did he though?" Dean wondered, "Maybe he threw the match."

"Threw the match?!" Ron said incredulously, "Why would he throw the match? The Slytherins need all the victories they can get!"

"A lot 'a people bet on matches. Maybe he had a deal with someone?" Seamus said.

"It definitely was weird," Harry agreed, "I don't know much about him but I didn't think he'd freeze like that."

"Either way," Ron said, grinning cockily, "A victory is a victory! The Cup has our name on it!"

Seamus snickered, "You sure you can keep your nerves under control."

He clearly hit a nerve because Ron went beet red, "You watch your bloody mouth!"

"Ron will do fine," Neville said suddenly.

Everyone stared at him for a couple seconds in silence before Ron spoke, "Uh, thanks Neville."

"I used to have issues with nerves," Neville continued, his voice growing stronger, "But the DA really helped me out and when we faced Death Eaters in the Ministry . . . I'm sure you can do this Ron."

"Yeah!" Ron said, "I bet I can!"

He grabbed a Butterbeer and took a deep gulp, grinning. Harry could tell he was trying to pump himself up and smiled. Ron was a good guy. As the conversation steered back towards the game, Harry watched Neville. He hadn't known he'd been so affected by the DA. It gave him a burst of pride to think that Neville had taken it to heart. Out of everyone Neville had practiced hardest and improved fastest. With a painful twinge, he remembered Bellatrix taunting Neville in the Ministry. To have come face to face with the woman who tortured his parents into insanity . . . A chill ran down his spine. Would he end up like Neville's parents?

Once again he could smell Malfoy as a girl brushed by him. Irritated his pinched his nose; his smell had to be off. There was no way Malfoy was in the Gryffindor Common Room. As the party went later into the night he kept occasionally getting whiffs of Malfoy. It seemed to be taunting him. He didn't know why some of the girls smelled like Malfoy but it was pissing him off. For a couple minutes he sat in thunderous silence wondering if Malfoy had slept with them.

"M-mate," Ron said awkwardly, "You're killing the treacle tart."

Harry looked down and saw he had squished the tart in his clenched fist, the sticky filling getting all over him. He muttered an excuse to Ron and left to enter the washroom. His mind was seething as he washed the treacle tart off of his hands. Would Malfoy sleep with those girls, Gryffindors to boot? Why else would they smell like him? Was that what he'd been doing during the match?! Harry jumped as the mirror cracked. He stared at his fractured reflection and realized how enraged he looked, like he was a different person. Heart hammering, he exhaled and tried to calm himself.

He was being irrational. Why did it matter who Malfoy slept with? It wasn't like he wasn't allowed to- to do what he wanted. Yeah, he was just being stupid. Harry splashed his face with some cool water. He needed to calm down. Malfoy was allowed to whatever he damn pleased. With a last glance at the cracked mirror, Harry stomped out of the bathroom. It wasn't his business who Malfoy shagged. Still, the irritating anger remained, chasing him even into sleep.

* * *

**A/N** I had a lot of fun writing this. Drop me a review, fav, or follow to give me feedback. (And in that order if you want). Thank you so much if you left a review. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.


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